


Run Away

by pippinmctaggart



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Established Relationship, Irrational worries, M/M, Teasing goes a bit too far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-28
Updated: 2004-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy talks, but not to Dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Away

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://1420.livejournal.com/profile)[**1420**](http://1420.livejournal.com/) for the wonderful beta, as always.
> 
> Written for Challenge #5 for [](http://lotrpschallenge.livejournal.com/profile)[**lotrpschallenge**](http://lotrpschallenge.livejournal.com/).

Billy sat in the chair at the end of the bed and tuned his guitar. He had the amp off for the moment, as it was a piece of shite he hadn't yet gotten around to replacing and it distorted the sound too much for a really precise tuning job. His hand slid up the rosewood neck, and as his right hand plucked the strings his left twisted the chrome keys, adjusting the strings one by one until he was satisfied. He reached down to flip the switch on the amp, turning the volume down to 2, and picked up his purple pick, leaving the thinner white and blue ones on top of the amp case. He needed the thick one today, the 1.14mm 'purple pick of fury' as Dom called it.

 _Dom_. Billy snorted. It was Dom's fault the purple pic of fury was in use tonight, wasn't it?

Billy gave the garnet red finish a quick polish with a flannel cloth as he always did, running it once across the white pick guard before tossing it aside. His fingers found the A minor chord immediately, and he hit the strings hard with the strong pick. Sound came from the amp, but it was barely audible. That was fine. He didn't need to make a lot of noise, he just needed to play, and to play hard.

There was a knock on the door. Billy ignored it, turning the amp to 3.

"Billy? Billy, can I come in?" Dom called.

Billy ignored him, playing faster, his hand flying from the A minor to a C, to an E minor, to an F.

Getting no answer, and even though he could hear the guitar faintly through the door, Dom opened it anyway, poked his head in.

"Billy? Come on, leave the guitar for once."

Billy turned the volume to 4, started over again. His pick cracked against the guard as his hand twitched.

Dom crossed his arms. Raised his voice to say, "I know you're pissed, and I'm sorry. Talk to me."

Billy clenched his jaw, his eyes closing briefly. He bit his tongue and reached over to crank the volume dial up two notches. He started playing a different song, an even faster one.

Dom looked away, looked back. Half-shouted to be heard. "You have a really bad habit of doing this, Bill--things get a bit difficult and you run in here. Would you turn it down, please?"

Billy's hand flashed to the volume and turned it to 8 so fast the music never stopped, it only got louder.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill--" Dom shouted, angry himself now. He stalked over to the amp and yanked the cord out of the wall. The sudden thin sound coming only from the guitar itself was shocking.

Billy's head snapped up in disbelief even as his hand stilled.

"Why do you have to do this, Bill?" Dom demanded. "You won't talk to me, but you'll talk to your fucking guitar? You come in here and you tell it everything with those quick fingers of yours, with your stupid purple pick of fury, you'll let everything out to your fucking guitar, but you won't tell _me_." His voice cracked on the last word, but whether it was with anger or something else Billy couldn't tell. "How the hell am I supposed to know what I did or said wrong if you won't fucking tell me?" he continued, every line of his body betraying his frustration. "How the hell am I supposed to not do it again, if I don't know what I did in the first place? I need you to quit being so fucking childish and _talk_ to me."

That did it. "Childish?" Billy snapped. "That's the wrong bloody word, isn't it ye fucker?"

Dom actually took a small step back in the face of the rawness in Billy's voice. "I don't know, Bill. Is it?" he challenged back.

"Ye can't call me an old man all the time, every bloody day, and then turn around and accuse me of being childish!" he yelled.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Dom asked, annoyed.

Billy put his guitar on its stand, pitched to his feet. "Forget it," he muttered, and went to leave.

But Dom grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Don't you dare run away again, Bill! We're going to finish this!"

"Finish it yourself, ye fucking cunt," Billy snarled. Yanked his arm free.

Dom went to grab him again, but Billy pushed him off. Pushed him a little too hard, and Dom overbalanced and fell backward. His head smacked the wooden platform of the bed with an audible crack. He lay there for a full five seconds, surprised and a little stunned, then started to climb to his feet.

Billy looked stricken. He reached out and took Dom's arms, helping him up, urging him back to sit on the bed. "Fuck, Dom, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" he whispered roughly. "Are ye all right? Here, let me see your head." He climbed onto the bed and sat behind Dom. "Are ye all right?" he repeated.

"Yes," Dom said quietly. "I'm fine. I just lost my balance." He winced as Billy carefully, gently ran his fingers through Dom's hair, seeking out the rising bump, making sure there was no wetness on his fingertips.

"I don't think you're bleeding," he muttered. "God, I'm sorry, Dom."

"It's all right."

"Do ye want some ice? I'll get ye some ice." He was gone before Dom could refuse. After some rattling around in the kitchen, he returned with a tea towel wrapped around an icepak. Handed it to Dom. "Put that on it. Why don't ye lie down?"

Dom started to smile a little. "I don't need to lie down."

"I think ye'd better lie down," Billy insisted, lifting his feet up.

It left Dom with no choice but to fall. He made sure to land on his side, since his head did actually hurt a fair bit. He wormed his way up until his neck was supported by a pillow, and placed the icepak over the bump on the back of his skull. He groaned as the cold started to seep through.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked instantly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "Does it hurt? Want me to take ye to the doctor?"

Dom chuckled. "No, I don't want you to take me to the doctor. Relax, Billy, I'm fine. Just a bruise."

"Are ye sure? Because--"

"I'm sure," he said firmly. "Come here. Sit with me."

Billy crawled up to the head of the bed, propped a pillow up against the wall, and leaned against it. When Dom shifted over to lay his head on Billy's lap, to curl up against him and lay a knee over Billy's legs, Billy started tenderly stroking Dom's hair, away from the icepak and sore spot. "I'm so sorry, Dom," he murmured. "I didn't mean to, I really didn't."

"I know, you silly git. It was an accident."

"I just wanted ye to leave me alone…"

"Why, Billy? Please tell me, what did I do to upset you?" Dom asked quietly, dismayed.

Billy was silent for a long while, his fingers still lightly smoothing through Dom's hair. Dom held his tongue and waited.

"I just…it's hard for me--not knowing when…" Billy muttered, his voice strained and rough.

Dom waited for him to finish, but he didn't. "Not knowing when what?" he asked, frowning.

"Not knowing when…the novelty will wear off. When ye'll get tired of it."

For the life of him, Dom didn't understand. "Tired of what? What are you talking about, Billy?"

Billy withdrew again. Dom could feel him pull back, even though his body didn't move an inch. "Never mind. Just leave it be, Dom."

Dom sat up, tossed the icepak to one side, and looked Billy full in the face. The pain he saw there startled and disturbed him. "No, I will not leave it be. Whatever hurts you hurts me. Tell me why I hurt."

Billy's eyes flashed, and he snapped, "Ye have no right to hurt!" And then he tightened the reins of his own control again, his eyes shuttered, and his voice dropped. "No reason, I mean. Ye have no reason."

"You meant that. You _meant_ 'no right'. How can you say I have no right to hurt when this look on your face and knowing I caused it and not knowing how or why is tearing me apart?" Dom asked gruffly. "Out with it Boyd, once and for all. I want to fix this."

"Why?" Billy asked suddenly, his voice hard. "Why do ye want to fix it?"

"That's a bloody stupid question, Bill." He reached up to stroke Billy's cheek, but Billy pulled away ever so slightly, so Dom let his hand drop to the collar of Billy's shirt, gripped it, let his hand hang so Billy could feel the weight of it on the back of his neck. "Because I love you, you infuriating twat."

"For how long, Dom?" Billy asked, not meeting his eyes. "Because I thought I could just take what I could get, enjoy what there is until ye leave, but I don't think I can anymore--"

"Take what you could get?" Dom repeated incredulously. "Until I _leave_? Good God, Bills, what are you on about? What the hell makes you think I'm going anywhere?" He gave Billy's collar a sharp tug. "Fucking talk to me, man!"

"What the hell would make me think ye'd stay?" Billy finally yelled, smacking Dom's hand away. "How long until the novelty wears off, Dom? How long until it's no longer amusing and just becomes a bore? How long until the naps and the having less energy and…and the--the fucking reading glasses I just got--how long until enough is enough and ye go find someone younger? 'Cos I'd really like some warning, Dom, I'd like to have an idea if it's going to be next year or next month or next week! At least do me the fucking courtesy of giving me a bit of warning so I'm not trying to pack my shite while ye get it on with your new boyfriend in the living room!" He lurched as if to leave, and Dom quickly shoved him back, harder than he meant to, and Billy's head knocked against the wall, startling him.

Dom straddled his lap, his foot sending the icepak skittering to the floor, using his weight to keep Billy on the bed, if not still. He gripped Billy's face between both hands and urgently said, "Shut your fucking gob, Bill. I don't know where the hell you got this crap, but I can't believe you think I'd leave you for anyone else."

"Where the hell I got it?" he cried, wounded and showing it at last. "From your own fucking mouth is where I got it! Christ, Dom, just because ye're on the phone doesn't mean I can't hear what ye say! Ye're constantly calling me old man, telling the others I'm too tired to go out, or we'll be late because ye don't want to wake me from my nap! How the hell do ye think that makes me feel? To know that ye're just getting off on some geriatric kick, and as soon as my old age gets to be too much of a bloody bother ye'll leave me behind and find someone suitable, someone your own age?"

Dom couldn't help it. He tried not to, he tried desperately to keep it in, but he just couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. He quickly, lightly feathered kisses on Billy's lips, on his cheeks, pressed a firm one on his forehead. "Silly, silly Billy," he said fondly. " _Geriatric_ kick? Bloody hell, Bills, you're thirty-four, not eighty-seven," he chided with amusement. "And you're further from old age than almost everyone else I know. I'm in love with the age in your heart, not the age on your fucking birth certificate." He stroked Billy's cheekbone with his thumb, his ring smooth against Billy's flushed skin.

"Then why the fuck do ye keep saying those things?" Billy muttered, unconvinced.

"I'm sorry if they hurt you, Bills," Dom said, truly contrite. "It's just me taking the piss, I thought you knew that. Hell, I tease everybody, don't I?"

"Not like that, ye don't."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. Besides, it was an excuse. Saying you were too tired to go out--it got me _you_ for a whole evening, all to myself. Don't you see that you _are_ suitable for me? Hell, you suit me better than my own skin." He wriggled closer to Billy, not unaware of what effect his motion across Billy's lap would have. "I adore everything about you, from your hair to your fingertips to your manky feet, and I have no plans of ever leaving you. _Ever_. You mean the world to me, Bills."

"But I'm so much older than ye, Dom," Billy whispered, staring down at Dom's shirt front. "And I don't have manky feet."

Dom laughed quietly. "You do, and you know it. But I don't care, I love them anyway. And what do you mean 'so much older than me'? Eight years, Bills. What's eight years? It's not even a decade. Hell, my parents have been married for almost thirty-five years, Billy. Thirty-five years of a life together. And do you know how many years there are between them?"

Billy shook his head.

"Eleven. That's right," he nodded at Billy's expression of surprise. "My dad is eleven years older than Mum. And I'd say they're pretty happy, wouldn't you?"

Billy nodded.

Dom leaned forward, and felt a slight bulge in Billy's trousers. He smiled, then gently, slowly kissed Billy, mouth closed for the moment. Billy's hands crept to Dom's waist.

Dom kissed down Billy's jaw, sucked on his throat until Billy made that soft growling sound he always made when he was getting turned on. Dom sat up again, his hands on either side of Billy's neck. "I'm truly sorry, Billy, for picking on something you were sensitive about. I won't do it anymore. And I promise you this." He dipped in again for another quick kiss. "If things ever don't work out between us, it won't be because of age. Unless," he grinned teasingly, "you decide I'm too young and immature for you."

"Dom," Billy started, sorrow and regret in his voice. "I'm sorry--"

"Shh. The only thing you have to be sorry about, Billy Boyd, is not telling me this was bothering you sooner. Why the fuck wouldn't you talk to me about it? Why lock yourself in here with your guitar every time instead of just telling me to shut it?" Dom asked, nudging Billy's chin up until he could look in his eyes.

"Because. I get angry, and I say things I don't mean and that I really regret later, and it just makes it worse down the road…"

"So you take it out on your guitar?"

Billy nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between Dom's.

"All right," Dom said thoughtfully. "Can we try something? If you get angry, you come in here and play your guitar to your heart's content, and I'll leave you alone. But when you're finished, when you've calmed down some and you're ready to open the door, then you fucking talk to me. Deal?"

Billy looked at him for a moment, then nodded again. "Deal. If ye leave me alone while I'm pissed, it's a deal."

"Excellent," Dom smiled. He slithered backwards, hearing Billy groan as he slid over his crotch, back to Billy's ankles. Shifted until he was sitting to the side, no longer straddling Billy, and with both hands gave his ankles a hard pull. With the first smile Dom had seen all day, Billy let him tug away, and he slid down the pillow until he was laying flat.

"Now," Dom said huskily, climbing back atop Billy. "Let me show you just how young you still are…"

 

 


End file.
